


Eye of the Beholder

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Densi - Freeform, F/M, These two dorks, and i have a real soft spot for it, but it's one of the first fics i ever wrote for this fandom, pre-densi, sass and banter, structurally i think it still works really well, this has largely been jossed by canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: Kensi and Deeks and their partnership...er...relationship...err...friendship ...umm..."thing," as seen through the eyes of others. A series of related vignettes based on moments in different Season Four episodes. (Not every episode will be represented). Rated T to be safe, but fairly mild.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original author's note is as follows:
> 
> Author's Note: Well, this is a bit of a departure for me. I've never written or posted anything outside of the Harry Potter fandom before this piece, but I've become a real fan of NCIS:LA over the last year and Season Four has inspired me to try my hand at dabbling within this fandom. Crossing my fingers that I haven't made a mess of it. Ah well, if it doesn't go well, I suppose I'll always have Hogwarts, so to speak. If all goes according to plan this should be a three-chapter piece, most of which is already completed...just tweaking some last things in the later sections. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: If you recognize a line, I borrowed it from the show...and as much as I might wish otherwise, Kensi, Deeks, and the rest aren't mine.

 

 **Astrid –** **_The Fifth Man_ **

_"Are you in love with your partner?"_

Astrid keeps her eyes on the cards she holds tightly in her left hand, as her right drifts over to lightly tap the stack of brightly colored chips resting in front of her on the table. The woman –  _Kensi_  – had said she could ask her  _anything_ , and Astrid really wants to know if she will answer as honestly as she had promised she would. Trusting people doesn't come naturally to her, but for some reason she instinctively feels drawn to the older woman. She really  _wants_  to be able to trust her. She just doesn't expect that she'll be able to. People usually lie, after all. Even sometimes when they don't mean to. There isn't too much use in getting upset about it. That's just how life has always been – in her experience, at least. She believes it always will be.

 _Still_ …she feels that she  _has_  to know whether Kensi will be just like most people, or whether there's a chance – however small – that she'll be different. So she purposely chose a very specific question, guessing that it was not what the older woman was expecting to hear. She often finds that when people are flustered, they have the most honest reactions. Kensi's immediate response will be the best gauge of how far Astrid can really trust her. Besides, she's rather curious to know exactly  _how_  Kensi will answer for the sake of the answer itself – though she has her own calculated suspicions about what the woman will say.

All of this analysis flashes through Astrid's mind in an instant and her gaze flicks up from her own hands to Kensi's face to see how she reacts. The younger girl is mesmerized by the struggle written in Kensi's conflicted features. She looks as though she wants to speak, but can't find the words she wants.  _And that,_  Astrid thinks,  _is what's making her the most upset of all. Feeling_ _ **something**_ _but not being able to name it._

In the end, the fact that Kensi doesn't actually answer the question pleases Astrid immensely.  _Either a "yes" or a "no" would have been a lie,_  Astrid reasons,  _when it's overwhelmingly clear that Kensi doesn't know her own mind on the matter._  It hadn't been verbalized, but Astrid knows that there was an answer in Kensi's reaction – or  _non_ -reaction –nonetheless, and so she recognizes that Kensi  _has_  kept her promise and responded honestly. In that moment, something inside of Astrid relaxes. She knows now that whatever else happens, Kensi  _is_  someone she can trust.

 

* * *

 

 **G. Callen –** **_Rude Awakenings_ **

Callen watches his partner with a frown as the other man disappears down the beach. Sam's shoulders are slumped in a posture Callen doesn't see from his stalwart friend and teammate too often, and it is instantly a cause for concern. He can also feel the weighted stares of the two younger members of the team, and he glances back at Kensi and Deeks before looking after Sam once again. He registers Kensi's words somewhat absently and responds without looking over at the other two, choosing to keep his eyes on his partner's figure as it continues to shrink into the distance.

"It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Working on the same task force side by side, seven days a week, months on end…" he trails off briefly before finishing his thought. "…they fell in love."

When he finally does look back at the pair beside him, they're standing near the pounding surf with stunned expressions on their faces. He can't really blame them – they've just received a lot of startling information and he's sure they are each processing it in their own way.

Yet even with part of his attention on Sam's problems, and part on the soaking wet Officer Snyder who is growling at his underlings as he struggles to walk up the beach from where Sam had tossed him into the ocean, Callen doesn't miss the way Deeks' eyes cut over to Kensi as they both attempt to take in this newly revealed part of Sam's story. Nor does he overlook the resolute set to Kensi's jaw and her total focus on  _not_  looking at her partner.

Callen shakes his head slightly to himself. Whatever is – or isn't – going on between Kensi and Deeks is a problem he'll have to pay attention to another day. Right now, his partner needs him.

 

* * *

 

 **Sam Hanna –** **_Skin Deep_ **

Sam can't keep his lips from twitching into a smirk as he watches the interaction playing out in front of him. He leans casually against one of the computer consoles in Ops, observing as Kensi is – at first – disgusted by Hetty's comment about Deeks' "sex wax." Though he keeps his outward expression as calm as possible, inwardly Sam is shaking his head bemusedly at the younger agent's confusion. Even  _he_  knows what sex wax is, and he's no surfer –  _and Kensi's lived in Los Angeles_ _ **how**_ _long?_ He thinks to himself. _She really should know better._

He has to fight a lot harder to hold back his laughter, however, when Kensi attempts to cover her mistake with the wax by telling her partner to "hang loose" and accompanying the sentiment with what she  _apparently_  thinks is a typical surfer's hand gesture. The only problem – which Deeks quickly corrects – is that she extends her index finger as well, when she should really use only her thumb and pinky. The symbol she's making is one Sam recognizes from helping his daughter with a homework unit on ASL not that long ago and it is so unmistakable that he finds it hard to believe that this is just another thing whose meaning Kensi is unaware of.

But, indeed, she is – or at the very least  _seems_  to be – as she trails out of Ops after Deeks a moment later without any acknowledgment of the fact that she'd just flashed her partner the ASL sign for "I love you" in front of their entire team. He scans the room quickly, finding Callen engrossed in conversation with Eric and Nell as they finish discussing some of the technical aspects of the current case. But as Sam's gaze sweeps towards the center of the perpetually-darkened space, his eyes lock with Hetty's and the mischievous twinkle he sees in his boss' expression tells him that he was not alone in witnessing Kensi's inadvertent, though likely subconsciously motivated, impromptu confession.

At that moment, he can hold back his chuckles no longer.

 

* * *

 

 **Assistant Director Owen Granger –** **_The Gold Standard_ **

He'd thought that this had been a brilliant idea when he'd first walked into the Mission that morning. Blye was an up and coming talent, and he'd thought he was seizing on the perfect opportunity to find out more about what  _really_ makes her tick and what her ambitions are now that solving the mystery of her father's death is behind her. Taking advantage of a day when her partner was occupied elsewhere in order to evaluate her further seemed like the best tactical course of action. Besides, performance reviews would be coming up soon and there was no harm in getting an early start on his assessments. Even if it would be Henrietta who would officially be conducting the evaluations when the time came, he liked to get a first-hand take on agents who he was considering fast tracking.

While he couldn't deny that her partner wasn't anywhere near as incompetent as he'd originally thought on their first meeting, Granger still wasn't sure whether or not the detective liaison was up to doing NCIS work on a regular basis.  _Though_ , he muses,  _Henrietta and I will soon find out more about that as well. In the meantime, I'd better focus on Blye._

He'd been convinced that she'd excel in every way without being saddled by the detective and his absolutely  _incessant_  talking. He'd been sure her concentration would be sharper, her reactions quicker, her handling of the case more sure without consistently having to spend part of her own energy on controlling and deflecting her partner. Though they'd certainly made great strides since the early days of their partnership, Granger had been sure –  _so_ sure – that their energies still weren't meshing in a truly beneficial way and that she would work better with someone else.

But now, as he observes her struggle her way through what should be a fairly casual conversation with him, he's not so sure. Granted, the environment might be throwing her off – he glances around surreptitiously, seeing the mannequin wearing nothing but pants and a bowtie with his peripheral vision and noting a display of obscenely colored feather boas as well – but somehow, he doesn't think so. She's been off her game since he first spoke with her that morning, if the comments about his "grizzled veteran" status and her rather clumsy attempts to backtrack were anything to go by.

He watches her talking with the counter clerk, informing the man that they will decidedly  _not_  be needing that hideous costume on the mannequin, and she seems more sure of herself. But still…there's something he can't quite put his finger on that's different about her. He doesn't want to think that it has anything to do with her missing partner. The notion that the unkempt, surf-addicted detective and the junior agent actually  _enhance_ each other's work rather than detract from it isn't something he wants to contemplate. Mainly because it runs completely counter to his original thesis. And yet…he's finding that it might just be the truth.

 _Well, Detective Deeks_ , Granger thinks to himself with a slight grimace,  _the success of your current assignment just became a good deal more important. It seems that you need to cement your place on this team once and for all – for your sake, and your partner's._


	2. Chapter 2

**Henrietta Lange –** **_Drive_ **

No one would ever mistake Henrietta Lange for a fool, nor is she blind.

She watches all of her agents nearly constantly and with the utmost care, keeping far closer tabs on them than they likely guess – despite being, on the whole, naturally perceptive people who are trained to observe details and detect surveillance. Hetty knows that it is primarily a mark of her hard-earned experience that allows her to "get the drop," as it were, on so many highly skilled operatives with such frequency. In some cases, her observation reaches  _much_ farther than they would likely be comfortable with if they knew. But as their supervisor in a high risk profession it is well within her prerogative, and she will do what is necessary to run her office well and to look out for her staff members' well-being. It is her responsibility to take care of them all, and guilt over such secretively intrusive behavior is something she gave up long ago.

Of late, she has been keeping a particularly vigilant eye on the younger members of Mr. Callen's team, although in truth that particular partnership had garnered her attention almost from the first moment Mr. Deeks had accepted her job offer. But things have taken a decidedly more…intense…turn over the last several months and Hetty's watchful gaze has not missed the shifts that have been taking place between the young detective liaison and Miss Blye.

In fact, she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she sometimes sees the steps in their rather intricate dance far more clearly than they do themselves.

 _This moment is a prime example of that_ , she thinks, sighing softly as Mr. Hanna and Mr. Callen pour and distribute the glasses of champagne. She surreptitiously watches the conversation that Kensi and Deeks are struggling to keep private just a few feet away.

"Nice try. I heard you making dinner reservations," the tall detective says softly with a slightly insecure half-grin that quickly starts to fade as his partner tells him that her plans are with someone else.

"Yeah right," he tries again, and Hetty can see the precise moment when he realizes that Kensi is, in fact, telling him the truth. The grin disappears completely, replaced with a look of disbelief and, if Hetty isn't mistaken, true hurt. "Are you serious?" she hears him murmur, his voice rising slightly.

Wanting to draw the rest of the team's focus away from the pair, Hetty takes her own glass and raises it high, proclaiming a toast in Mr. Deeks' honor that thankfully succeeds in reviving the celebratory mood. She notes that the smile Mr. Deeks now wears  _is_  genuine, but it doesn't last for more than a few moments as he and his partner once again return to their somewhat difficult conversation. She makes a point of not listening  _too_  closely after that, choosing instead to focus on the others gathered for the somewhat informal party – thereby giving Ms. Blye and Mr. Deeks as much privacy as is possible given the circumstances.

But as troubling as the exchange between the partners is to witness, and as difficult as it is to watch a somewhat subdued and dispirited version of Mr. Deeks leave the Mission alone a short while after the party breaks up, Hetty finds that the most telling incident occurs later that evening.

She stays long after most of the Mission's staff and field agents have gone home, a frequent practice of hers. She is enjoying the relative quiet of the old building as she works on a particularly sensitive bit of documentation that needs immediate redaction when the unmistakable sound of footsteps reaches her ears. Looking up, she isn't really surprised to see a rather conflicted looking Kensi walk into the bullpen and drop her coat and bag carelessly on her desk before folding her arms across her chest and shaking her head angrily.

"Ms. Blye?" Hetty questions softly, moving through the darkened alcove near her desk and stepping into the light near the young woman.

Kensi startles slightly before turning around quickly. "Hetty! I'm sorry…I didn't mean to disturb you…" she begins, before Hetty holds up a hand, silently dismissing the apology.

"Not at all, my dear…I'm simply curious as to what brings you back here at this hour. I would have thought that you would have gone home after your date with Mr…err…Jaime," she responds, glancing up at her young agent knowingly.

"How did you…?" Kensi sputters, before shaking her head. "You know what? Nevermind. I should know better than to ask how you knew." They share a momentary smile before Kensi turns back to face her desk, her expression sliding back towards the anger Hetty had seen in her when she first walked in. Anger that Hetty suspects is directed inwards, at herself. When Kensi doesn't volunteer anything further, Hetty knows she will have to be the one to draw the younger woman out.

"Is everything quite alright, Ms. Blye?" she asks in a solicitous tone, waiting to see what Kensi will say – though Hetty has her own theories about what is troubling the young woman, she is curious to see whether her agent will confirm them or whether she will continue down the path of denial she has been steadily treading for more than a year now.  _At a conservative estimate_ , Hetty thinks, her smile growing enigmatic.

Kensi hesitates for a moment, and Hetty can almost see her bite back at least three attempts to start a sentence before she exhales deeply and all the fight seems to go out of her, replaced by a sadness Hetty hasn't seen in her eyes in years…not since her earliest days with NCIS. Hetty waits patiently, and at last Kensi shakes her head and smiles softly – though it doesn't light up her face the way her smiles normally do. "I'm…fine, Hetty, but thank you," she says quietly. "I came back for this," she picks up her cell phone, which has been sitting on her desk close to where her bag had landed. "I realized halfway through dinner that I'd forgotten it."

Hetty simply looks at her, letting her gaze pierce into Kensi as she replies. "I'm very glad you remembered it, Miss Blye. Forgetting things can create a good deal of difficulty," she pauses, her eyes connecting with those of the young agent meaningfully. "I recommend taking better care of your things in future," she murmurs with a smile to take the sting out of the slightly harsh-sounding words. She never breaks eye contact with Kensi – there is no judgment in her gaze, but there  _is_  a message, perhaps even a warning. A touch of advice lurks there as well. Not unlike the advice she'd given Kensi over a year ago, along with a delicate and deadly hair adornment.

Kensi nods stiffly, seeming to understand, and mutters a hasty goodnight before grabbing her bag and jacket and heading quickly back down the wide corridor towards the exit. Hetty watches her go in silence until the door closes behind her. Only then does she move back to her own desk, shaking her head as she goes.

 _Denial still_ , she thinks.  _Bugger_.

 

* * *

 

 **Nell Jones –** **_Wanted_ **

Nell moves along the corridor leading to the armory with carefully measured steps, attempting to find a pace that is somewhat slower than her habitual gait, and yet one that also looks and feels natural. If anyone asks her – which she fervently hopes they  _won't_  – she'll have to give them some sure to be feeble-sounding excuse about trying to find her inner calm. And while she's noticed that her natural walk  _has_ recently taken on more of a nervous, bouncing energy – and it  _would_ be good if she could work on toning down that habit – the truth is that she isn't trying to quell it simply for the sake of projecting serenity.

No.

What she will never, ever, EVER admit to anyone – not even Hetty, no,  _especially_ not Hetty – is that she is trying to work out the exact speed and bearing their inimitable supervisor uses in order to creep up on them seemingly out of nowhere. She's long envied Hetty's apparently unparalleled ability to appear out of the ether behind one of her agents and has been thinking that it would be a useful skill to master.  _After all, Assistand Director Granger said I had the 'Gorgon Stare,'_ she muses,  _I'm sure I can master this too._

Hetty had dispatched her to bring everyone to Ops for their new assignment, so what better time to practice, really? She vehemently squashes the little voice in her head that's suggesting she just wants to use the stealth-walk to sneak up on Eric and confiscate his latest noisemaker of obscure origin.

As she nears the open doorway to the armory, her concentration is so intense that she almost misses the snippets of conversation that float to her from inside the large room. She vaguely hears Kensi and Deeks talking about something, but doesn't focus on the topic of their conversation until something Deeks says nearly brings her up short. His playfully teasing tone is par for the course, but his words themselves are, for lack of a better description, shocking.

"…but it turns out it's you…You wanna make a baby?" he asks with a laugh.

Kensi's voice, containing a mixture of annoyance and something Nell can't quite place, interjects. "Stop it!"

But Deeks, it seems, cannot be stopped. He carries on as if his partner hadn't even spoken, the mirth in his voice growing stronger with every word. "D'you wanna make it with me? We can make some ninja-assassins –"

His questions register in Nell's mind at exactly the same instant that she turns the corner and enters the armory. Unable to hide her spontaneous reaction to the questions Deeks has just posed to Kensi, Nell's eyes widen and her mouth contracts in surprise. She knows that she's failed miserably at controlling her facial expression when her eyes connect with Deeks'. He tears his attention away from Kensi, his eyes locking on Nell's and his mouth still open from his previous comment. She can actually see the moment her reaction hits him – his mouth snaps shut and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Deciding she should speak up before things get any stranger, she forces out a wary-sounding "Hiiii…"

Kensi whips around upon hearing Nell speak, and the intelligence analyst falters for a moment under the combined gazes of the partners. Realizing she needs to say  _something_ , Nell returns to the original reason for seeking them out. "Sorry, Victor Varlamov was murdered on the beach this morning," she says apologetically, quickly relaying the information that they are all needed back in Ops.

She watches, slightly puzzled, as Kensi make an unsuccessful move to grab a clipboard from Deeks before the pair file out of the armory and head down the hall. As he passes her, Deeks hands off the clipboard to her, urging Nell not to forget to fill out her "partner survey."

_Partner survey? Hetty didn't say anything about that…_

She falls into step behind Kensi and Deeks, completely forgetting any attempt to keep her stride in check as she ponders both this mysterious survey and the strange conversation she'd just overheard. The more she thinks about it, in fact, the stranger it all seems, especially when she considers the expressions each of them had worn as they passed her to enter the hallway. Deeks had looked smug, his familiar joking smirk firmly in place, which wasn't surprising. It was Kensi's face, however, that continues to throw Nell. The other woman had looked… _almost affectionate_ , Nell thinks,  _and I would have expected her to be annoyed_.

They're nearing Ops now, and so Nell shrugs off the perplexing interaction, mentally making a note to come back to it later. For now, there are more pressing matters at hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Officers Snyder and Sobatino –** **_Wanted_ **

Vostanik Sobatino falls into step next to his partner as they amble slowly across the boat shed's parking lot, trailing along behind Special Agent Blye and Detective Deeks who appear to be bickering good-naturedly about something he can't quite hear. Observing the pair carefully, he snorts and arches an eyebrow at Snyder. "Alright. What's the bet this time?"

The look on his partner's face mirrors his own bemused expression. Snyder looks at the pair ahead of them for a moment before glancing back and muttering. "Hundred bucks, Nick."

Nick inclines his head slightly, signaling his agreement. "Terms?" he questions.

"Easy," Snyder answers, his voice laced with cynical amusement. "You hit on her – you win if she turns you down –  _specifically_  for him." Snyder points in the direction of the lanky detective before turning to his partner with a smirk.

Sobatino can't help but laugh. "Well, I guess a hundred bucks'll take the sting out of losing out on  _that_ ," he gestures in Blye's general direction.

"You're pretty sure of yourself there, partner."

"Why shouldn't I be? I win and I get the money, I lose and I get to go on a date with  _her_." He pauses a moment, watching Blye laugh at some unintelligible comment from the detective. Apparently their friendly squabble has been resolved. He turns back to Snyder, shaking his head with amusement. "But – unfortunately for me – I'm going to  _win_. They're not even trying to be subtle about it. There's no way she'll say yes. In fact…"

"Yeah?" Snyder looks at him, the smirk at the edge of his mouth widening as if he already has an idea of what Nick is about to suggest. This habit – these nonsense bets – are a trademark of their long partnership. They'd started them years ago on a whim simply as a way to pass the time during assignments, but now they've become the personal code of their partnership, their way of relieving the stress of tense cases with a much-needed distraction. They've been doing it so long, in fact, that Nick figures that Snyder probably  _can_  predict what he's about to say.

"Want to make it double or nothing?" Sobatino asks.

"Terms?" Snyder fires back without missing a beat, as if he had, indeed, been expecting the question.

Now it is Nick's turn to smirk. "You needle him. Mercilessly. You win if he caves and makes some sort of overt territorial claim on her." He locks eyes with Snyder for a beat. "Remember, it's got to be  _overt_. Nothing half-assed. He's got to come out and say it, or make some sort of physical move."

Snyder laughs loudly as they draw closer to the pair in question, who are now leaning companionably, shoulder-to-shoulder against the tailgate of Blye's Cadillac, waiting for the two CIA officers to catch up. "Deal, but you  _do_  realize you're handing me this one from the start, right?"

Sobatino's smirk turns into a confident grin. "We'll see about that." He couldn't wait to collect from Snyder when he won. The satisfaction of besting his partner would  _almost_ make up for, in all likelihood, having to miss out on a date with the undeniably beautiful agent.

 _Oh, yes,_  he thinks.  _No matter the end result, playing out this bet is going to be_ _ **fun**_ _._

 

* * *

 

 **Special Agents Claire Keats and Dave Flynn –** **_Red, Part 1_ **

"I'm just going to put it over here," Deeks says as Kensi moves back towards what Claire assumes is her desk. Claire's gaze follows the lanky detective as he hefts the large, mysterious box into his arms and moves in the direction of a tall shelving unit, teasingly calling back over his shoulder to his partner. "It's not socks, is it?"

Claire stifles a sigh at Deeks' comment. She's undeniably frustrated, though not with him. Not really. No, the  _real_ source of her frustration is standing in much closer proximity and is a good deal more ginger. Her eyes flick over to Dave.  _And_ _ **so**_ _much more annoying._

 _Why did he have to bring up that rash? I try to do something nice for him and he turns it in to a joke in front of people we barely know_ , she thinks testily.  _Well. We'll see if I'm that nice to him again anytime soon._

"–pretty blatant, wouldn't you say?" her partner's voice cuts across her inner monologue, interrupting the rant she's working herself up to and it takes a few seconds for her to realize he's asked her a question.

"What?" She hates how inarticulate she sounds in that moment, but she's clueless as to what he's just said.

Dave just smiles at her – it's the smile she wishes he wouldn't use so often, mainly because she likes it just that little bit too much – and repeats his question. "Them," he says, pointing at Kensi and then over to Deeks. "The way they are with each other. It's pretty obvious there's something going on there, right? I mean you saw the same thing I did – that whole thing with the box? You can't tell me you didn't feel the tension between them, can you? It was completely clear that they have the hots for each other." He pauses for a moment, his grin widening as he looks at her. "I mean, don't you think so?"

She can do nothing but stare back at him incredulously, her feelings of annoyance mounting rapidly. He's not wrong – the signals the pair of partners from the LA-based team had been sending each other were almost embarrassingly easy to read.  _Now, if only Dave could see what's right in front of his_ _ **own**_ _face that easily_ , she thinks, a touch of regret bleeding into the existing irritation she feels. Crossing her arms, she releases a slow breath before responding. "What I think," she says, unable to keep the slight edge out of her voice, "is that it's none of our business."

"Yeah, but –"

"But  _nothing_ ," she fixes him with a bit of a glare now, willing him to just let it  _go_. "Don't be a gossip, Dave."

"You've never minded befo-"

"Yeah, well, I mind now, okay?" she cuts him off again before stalking away from him, suddenly so very tired of this line of conversation. She hears him huff out a bemused burst of air that's not  _quite_ a disbelieving laugh before she's out of earshot. Nearing Kensi's desk, she smiles at the other agent briefly. "Hey, I hate to ask this, but…you don't have a cigarette do you? I  _really_  need one."

Claire sees Kensi's eyes look past her, over her shoulder, flicking over to where she knows Dave is still standing before the other woman meets her gaze again. When their eyes meet again, a flash of understanding instantly passes between the two women.  _Does she find us as easy to read as we found them?_  Claire wonders fleetingly to herself before Kensi responds, an apologetic tone in her voice. "Can't say that I do, but if you're in the market for a doughnut, you've come to the right place."

Claire shakes her head. She's grateful for Kensi's offer, but sweets won't do the trick right now. She needs something to take the edge off, and the sugar would only rile her up further. Suddenly an idea strikes her. "Thanks, but…actually…maybe I could get in some target practice? If you'll show me where your shooting range is?"

Kensi smiles genuinely at her. "I'll do you one better. I think I'll get in some practice myself – that is if you don't mind some company?" And as Claire nods in acceptance, she notices a shift in Kensi's expression. The brunette's eyes have drifted across the bullpen and are locked on Deeks, and Claire sees a curious blend of affection and frustration, mixed with a touch of disappointment, wash over the other woman's face. It's a look that perfectly mirrors what she herself feels when she thinks about her own partner. But before Claire can comment – not that she would have known the right thing to say, really – the look is gone and Kensi is totally composed once more.

"C'mon," she gestures for Claire to follow her, "it's this way."

And as Claire falls into step behind Kensi, the female agents leaving their respective partners behind in the bullpen, she takes a small measure of comfort in knowing that even though they've not explicitly spoken about it, there's someone else out there who understands the perils of falling for their partner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sam Hanna – The Sunday morning following** **_Resurrection_ **

Sam ambles slowly into his home office, a shot of wheatgrass juice clutched in one hand and the Sunday morning paper in the other. Sunlight streams through the room's wide windows, falling across his desk and landing on his laptop causing its metal casing to gleam far too brightly for his liking considering how early it is – normally he wouldn't be awake yet on a Sunday morning. But despite getting in fairly late from the game the night before, his sleep had been restless and he'd woken early. Knowing it would be difficult to go back to bed after that, he'd decided he might as well get up after all and enjoy what was shaping up to be a beautiful day.

He'd tried rousing the kids for breakfast shortly after he'd gotten up, but they were both still worn out from the previous evening and he'd taken pity on them and decided to let them sleep a bit longer. Though given his daughter's half-sarcastic, half-sleepy response when he'd attempted waking her up, he knew he'd be having a word – or ten – with Deeks come Monday morning. The mumbled  _"_ _ **Really?!**_ _It's Sunday!"_  his daughter had greeted him with had sounded far too much like the scruffy detective liaison for Sam. It was bad enough he had to listen to that sort of thing most of the day at work – he did  _not_ want his children picking up that particular habit.  _This is exactly the kind of thing I was afraid of and the reason why I didn't want him anywhere near this house_ , Sam thinks with a gruff snort.  _But I needed Kensi, and she_ _ **insisted**_ _._

Thinking of Deeks and Kensi draws Sam's attention to the laptop once again and he moves quietly to his desk, sitting and setting the wheatgrass shot and his paper off to the side. He stares at the computer contemplatively, knowing that the files with all of the Nanny-cam footage from the last 12 hours are stored there and debating with himself over whether or not he should watch it.

He thinks back to his arrival home last night. It had been good to go to the Clippers game with his partner – and even better to get a chance to rib him about a certain colleague in Des Moines – but he'd been glad to get back home afterwards too. Balancing work and being there for the kids while Michelle is out of the country, not to mention worrying about her, was starting to take its toll on him and he'd been feeling on the verge of exhaustion recently. He'd been looking forward to settling into bed and knowing that he didn't have to be anywhere the next morning.  _Unfortunately sleep didn't come any easier last night than it did the night before_ , he realizes with a rueful shake of his head.

When he'd let himself in, he'd found Kensi and Deeks sitting together on his sofa watching a movie and laughing about something over a bowl of popcorn. They were close together on the couch, but not extraordinarily so, and while they both looked slightly rumpled there was nothing that indicated to him that that was due to anything other than keeping up with two energetic kids for several hours. A quick scan of the room showed that everything seemed to be in its proper place and, with a relieved smile, he'd said goodnight to them both. After hugging Kensi and clapping Deeks on the shoulder, he'd watched them walk to Kensi's car, still talking and laughing, though Sam couldn't hear about what. He'd gone and checked in on both his son and daughter, noting that everything seemed perfectly fine.

There had been nothing concrete.  _Nothing_. No reason to think that if he watched that footage he'd see any out of the ordinary behavior from the junior agent and her partner.  _And yet…_ he couldn't be completely sure. Though there'd been nothing overt when he'd observed them last night, Kensi and Deeks  _had_ been awfully cozy on that couch and the more he thought about it, the less sure Sam became.  _Kensi's hair_ _ **had**_ _been awfully ruffled, and Deeks' smirk seemed a bit…extra smug. And they_ _ **were**_ _sharing the same blanket…_ _ **and**_ _they drove away together in Kensi's car. But none of that_ _ **means**_ _anything one way or the other._ But at that precise moment, Deeks' joke from a few nights earlier about doing his "best work" on camera suddenly floats back into Sam's mind. He shakes his head quickly yet briefly to help steer his thoughts away from a place he'd really rather not go.

 _Look_ , he tells himself,  _there are two possibilities. Either they got up to something, or they didn't. Either way, the kids are safe and healthy – they're totally fine. The rest is none of my damn business._

Decision made, Sam opens up the laptop and quickly hits a sequence of keys, erasing the Nanny-cam footage from the previous evening. After all, speculation and innuendo are all well and good, and banter and teasing each other is practically a requirement for being on their team. But though he can't  _prove_  that anything inappropriate actually happened between Kensi and Deeks in the first place, Sam doesn't want to take the risk of watching the tapes and finding out.

 _There are some things about your co-workers_ , he thinks,  _that a man just doesn't need to know_.

 

* * *

 

 **Eric Beale and Nell Jones –** **_The Raven and the Swans_ **

Nell can't help but laugh as she sits down, curling her legs up underneath her and settling her carton of beef lo mein on her lap. "Wait, wait wait –" she manages to get out, leaning over to pick up a pair of chopsticks that she proceeds to break apart and stab into the lo mein. "You're telling me that he was actually  _singing_  to her?!"

"Huh. Welllll, he was  _trying_  to. It didn't sound all that good," Eric says evenly, a hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Nell just shakes her head in disbelief, another chuckle escaping at the thought of Deeks singing to Kensi, albeit badly. "I would've liked to hear that."

"Trust me, you really wouldn't have. Sounded kind of like a dying cat, to be honest," Eric murmurs, digging into his own carton of takeout.

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Guess it was for the best that his teenage rock dreams didn't pan out," Eric smiles more fully at her as he continues. "Though I don't think they would've gone far anyway with a band name like Touching Wood."

Nell chuckles again and shakes her head bemusedly before taking a bite of her food. The pair shares their dinner in companionable silence for a few moments before Eric breaks the quiet between them.

"So...the stuff that went on later. I could hear it over the comms, but…that sounded awkward…" he trails off, and when Nell looks at him again he has a sheepish look on his face, as if part of him doesn't really want to ask but another part of him is dying to know. She herself had been more than a bit embarrassed to walk in on Kensi and Deeks in that hotel room. She'd thought things had been weird when she'd interrupted their conversation in the armory a few weeks back, but nothing could have compared to seeing her two teammates rolling around together like that on the hotel's opulent bed.

She glances up at Eric, a hesitant smile tugging the corners of her mouth. "Oh, it was. You have  _no_  idea. When I got to the room, they were…um. Well, Kensi had Deeks in a headlock…sort of."

"Sort of?"

"She…uh…wasn't using her  _arms_  to pin him, if you know what I mean," Nell's eyes flick to Eric's and she tries to use the intensity of her gaze to communicate the things she doesn't quite feel comfortable spelling out explicitly. It's not that she's a prude…but these are their mutual friends and co-workers, and it  _was_ awkward for her in that moment, and as much as she wants to share the story with Eric it's somehow easier if she doesn't have to say the words  _"and then I saw Kensi's legs wrapped around Deeks' neck and I didn't know where to look_."

Just remembering what she'd seen in that hotel room causes a blush to heat her cheeks, but luckily it seems that Eric  _has_  picked up on her meaning without her having to spell out the details – at least if the slightly flustered look he's giving her now is any indication.

"Oh my God."

"Yup."

"They were really-"

"Seemed like it."

"And you walked in on-"

"Uh huh."

"Wow."

Nell leans over to the table and picks up her beer, taking a long sip before returning the bottle to its place and picking at her food once again. "I think I should start wearing some sort of bell, or something. I mean, this isn't the first time I've interrupted something…er…personal between them."

Eric quirks a quizzical eyebrow at her, as he enjoys a bit of his own dinner. "Oh no?"

Shaking her head, she quickly recounts her experience from the armory which, while less physically overt had seemed to carry much greater emotional weight if the talk of future children between the partners was to be believed. Looking over at Eric, she sees that he seems to be lost in thought. "Eric?" she gently questions.

"Huh. Sorry. I was just thinking…it's happened to you twice, me once…what do you think the odds are the rest of the team has had similar experiences?"

She laughs then, shaking her head slightly. "Don't know…but I'd have to say, I think they're pretty darn good." Nell is quiet for a moment, continuing to enjoy her dinner, before setting the carton down next to her beer and sliding along the couch until she's right beside Eric. She leans her elbow on the back of the couch and props her chin on her hand, looking at him fondly. "I think we really actually owe them a thank you for being so…uh…obvious about it."

He puts his own carton on the table and turns to face her, mirroring her position and gazing back at her just as fondly. "How's that?"

"Wellll, since everyone's been so distracted with their, um, antics, so to speak," she says slowly, reaching out to take her boyfriend's free hand in hers, linking their fingers together. "We've been able to fly under the radar just about completely."

"You're right." Eric grins at her. "And I think I know just how to thank them…well, Deeks, at least."

"Oh?"

"Mm." Eric's grin widens. "I can delete the footage I just…uh…happened to find of Touching Wood's one and only live gig."

"Good plan, although…" Nell's eyebrows quirk upward as her face takes on a mischievous expression. "I think I have a better idea…let Kensi see it once before you destroy it. She deserves it...and then we will really have thanked them both. Even if they don't know what they're being thanked  _for_."

"I like the way you think, Miss Jones. I like the way you think."


End file.
